


Dorian Ascending

by JackedofSpades



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, i have no idea how im gonna keep mass effect references out of this, i'll try to keep it to the two, i'll update this with real tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:51:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackedofSpades/pseuds/JackedofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is a runaway Entitled, having stolen a ship and crew from his father's Estate in Qarinus, he is intercepted by a mercenary group of Chargers. They are lead by a Splice who calls himself The Iron Bull. At first they seem poised to capture him to return to his father, but Dorian soon learns Bull is no ordinary mercenary. </p><p>Teen rating for now, but I do plan for more mature/explicit content later and will update as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorian Ascending

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AniDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniDragon/gifts).



> This started as an Adoribull Prompt Sunday prompt from Anidragon that I loved and took way too far. I have a loose plot in mind and hope to bring it to a reasonable end, but at the least I'll flesh out a couple good scenes!
> 
> Comments and ideas are always appreciated! <3

 

“Lord Pavus, the mercenary company has hailed us and are requesting permission to board. They say they wish to negotiate terms.”

Dorian turned lazily towards his attendant, a small mouse of a girl, from where he reclined on a plush platform. His eyes flicked to the holo-screen to his left, confirming her words. He sighed.

“How blasé of them.” Dorian said in bored tone, not moving from his perch. The girl didn’t move, afraid of wrath he did not possess. His eyes lingered on her pointed ears for just a moment before he finally deigned to rise.

“Tell them to stand by; they’ll be allowed to board momentarily.”

The girl bowed with an unmerited wince and departed. Dorian tried not to think about what she had been subjected to at the estate. He put the thought out of his mind as he pressed a finger to the holo-screen. Two more attendants appeared moments later, fine silken robes and damask cloaks in their arms.

Dorian looked out the window of his ship as the two attendants flitted around him. The tattered aft of a Charger was visible, the streamlined vessel of a strike team.

 _“That was quick.”_ Dorian thought to himself as the two attendants threaded a fine golden sash around his waist.  _“I’ve been gone only months. Tsk. Father must be serious this time.”_

He held out his arms as the attendants each took one, rolling and pinning the long, streaming sleeves up so that they just barely touched the floor. His robe was jet black, lined in gold and accented in paper thin, metal scales of the same color. He walked barefoot, though his feet appeared dipped in liquid gold.

An attendant waved a styling wand around his face, making his hair coif elegantly while subtle highlights and golden paint lined his dark eyes. A final touch, a delicate, translucent hood crowned his head, held in place magnetically so that it hovered just about his perfect hair. He was a vision; one he hoped would remind these mercenaries how powerful he was even without the backing of his family.

He waved off his attendants who scurried off and out of sight. Dorian walked into the next room, poised with his hands clasped together in front of him, where he would receive the mercenaries.

Not quite a throne room, he settled into a high backed chair of the ship's receiving hall. The ship he’d managed to steal from the estate was much too small for anything more opulent. He waved his hand and his dressing attendants appeared once more, settling his robes and sleeves to flare and lay dramatically around him where he sat.

Finally ready to receive his audience, he waved his hand once more, the blue shine of his Entitled crest glowing with the action. The small girl reappeared, timid and fearful at his side. He glanced at her, and watched as she blanched.

“My dear, I am not my father.” he tried as he watched her type the boarding approval into the holo-screen. She nearly made eye contact, flinched and looked down at her toes instead.

“Yes, my Lord,” was all she ventured.

Dorian sighed. He thought he had made his stance clear when they had fled the estate.

“What is your name?” He tried again in a softer tone.

She looked at him then, out of the corner of her eye. He tried for a softer expression; too afraid a smile would come off threatening.

“My name… is Julia, my Lord.”

He considered her a moment, imagining what her short life must have been like up until now. Pity would not help her, but perhaps in time, he could give her some means of reparations.

“A lovely name. I think I’ll address you that way, from now on,” and when her eyes searched him for a hidden meaning, colored with sickening fear of perverse intimacy he never meant, he added quickly, “if you would allow it.”

Her eyes went wide at that, words never spoken from an Entitled to his property. She lost herself for a moment, as the script of her servitude fell from her hands. Something new they’d have to learn together, he guessed. She looked at him full on then, her expression shifting like sand, searching his fine features for something. For a moment he doubted he was capable of changing, doubted all that he had thrown away and then-

“Yes, my Lord, you may,” and then when relief washed over his face, when a hint of humanity filtered through his regal façade she reached even higher, “and if it would not cost me my tongue, I would humbly ask permission to address you as Lord Dorian.”

His eyebrows arched; such words would cost her her tongue back home, it was no hyperbole. A bold girl, after all. She hurriedly continued at his questioning gaze.

“No disrespect meant, my Lord. I meant it only as a means to separate you from your father. If as you say, you are not he.”

Fear still glazed her amber eyes, but her words spoke of a strength he had never guessed existed. He smiled then, genuinely. Hope then, still remained.

“I would like that very much, Julia.”

The doors of the room opened with a mechanical chime. Dorian turned his head from Julia with a practiced grace he would never unlearn. For now at least, he remained only what he was known to be, the primary heir of House Pavus.

Yet another attendant, a teenage boy with regal features but not the ensemble to match, ushered the mercenary group in before him. They were a rag-tag bunch; several Splices and what appeared to be a couple of Enhanced. Unbelievably, a Skyjacker was with them as well, or at least an ex-Skyjacker who’d beaten the odds and escaped with his wings.

But even that fact did little to distract Dorian from their leader, a massive figure of a man. A Splice himself, and if one had to guess, cut from robust Bull DNA. The man was massive, at least seven feet tall with the bulk to match. He wore little, only simple, mundane pants of plain cloth and what appeared to be a primitive leather harness.

 _“How gauche.”_  Dorian thought even as his eyes continued to roam over the man’s form. His Splicer was clearly skilled, creating a near perfect specimen; the only apparent flaw on the man being his missing eye. Strange, that he’d simply covered it with some sort of ornament rather than have it replaced. Only the poorest wouldn’t, which he clearly wasn’t, having been hired by his father. No, that pride in a flaw spoke of something much deeper - something dangerous.

Finally the group had made it’s way down the over-long hallway to where Dorian sat poised. Julia straightened as they approached, stepping towards her master just a hair, a regal mask of emotionless placidity plain on her face. If Dorian had been at ease, he would have smiled again. Instead he matched her expression, one elbow propped on the arm of his chair, and leaned his head against his delicate, ringed fingers.

He said nothing for a moment, letting his rank of Entitled linger before them, halting their tongues until he spoke first. He appraised them for weakness, hoping to see fear or hesitation, even the smallest tell he could use against them. He found none.

Their leader stared him down, his eye as unsettling as his long, straight horns that ended in a point.  Something about that one…

After another moment, Dorian shifted, steepling his fingers together. Finally he spoke just as the Bull cracked an uncouth smile.

“State your business.” Dorian said in a bored tone. It was all affectation, cultivated over hundreds of years, the smirk of the Bull almost throwing him. The insolence. It seemed no one here respected the propriety of the Universe.  _“What a case for entropy.”_

Though Dorian had given no tell, no crack in his mask, it seemed the Bull had caught it anyway, his smirk widening in defiance. Dorian remained calm on the surface; it was easy for him. And yet something about that understanding was thrilling. Was it a product of his spliced DNA? Did he have some advantage to perception?

“The Iron Bull, leader of this Charger unit. Your father hired us to take you back to Qarinus. He promised us 20 units of high-grade Pavus RegeneX for you. That’s a decent sum, considering you’ve run off before.”

His tone was light, almost amused. He knew about Dorian’s previous escapes.  That was unexpected, not something his father would ever admit. They’d done research, and knew where to look. Dangerous.

Dorian’s eyes narrowed at The Iron Bull. What sort of designation was that? It was true, Chargers often took monikers, but this was a bit on the nose.  Fitting, however.

“I see. Would you like to inform me as to how you came about that information?” Dorian asked in a more stern tone, sitting up and placing a hand on either arm of his chair.

“Nope.”

The Skyjacker beside the Bull smirked as he crossed his arms. His dark brown wings shifted and refolded; they were the same color as his hair. The rest of the Chargers seemed equally amused.

Dorian continued, unperturbed by their impertinence. This could be played to his favor, if he was careful.

“Very well. 40 units is my counter offer. Take it and be gone.” He let the words slip out of his mouth like water, as if such a grand amount meant nothing. That was the bluff.

The Bull took a step closer, his eye lingering on Julia for a moment, and then they flicked back to Dorian. There was a feral quality to the look, and Dorian felt his chest thump in the most unexpected way.

“No deal.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up, despite all his control. 40 units was a small fortune for any mercenary. Something was very wrong here, and he was walking a razor’s edge. Lucky for Dorian, that was his favorite place to stroll.

“Who was your Splicer?” Dorian asked the Bull as if he hadn’t answered. He wouldn’t take the bait that easily.

“A Tamassran you’ve never heard of, out of Par Vollen.”

Dorian blinked a bit too quickly. Par Vollen? Shit.

“Mmm, yes. The Qunari are quite fond of their horns. Should have known – Silly me.  60 Units, but no more.”

Bull tilted his head at the second offer, like he was only now taking his first look at Dorian.

“You still think this is about payment, huh?”

 _“What else is there in this world?”_  Dorian thought absently. He watched as the Bull shook his head, as if reading his thoughts. He found it infuriating and it made him reckless. If this Iron Bull did not want to play by the rules, neither would he.

Dorian turned his head away from the Bull, ignoring the empty space his reply was meant to fill. He turned languidly to Julia, who met his gaze respectfully.

“Julia, what ever shall we do with this bunch?” He said with faux amusement as he gestured to the group with a bejeweled hand. She studied him for a moment, feeling the world shift beneath her small feet. Unprecedented in every way, she took the chance he hoped she would.

“If it were up to me, I would see them fight to the death. Last one alive could be allowed to leave. That is, if you had a mind for it, Dorian.”

She’d even forgone the title, an excellent play. She had a quick wit, able to guess his gambit from only a glance, and the gall to risk a misstep that could cost her life. She had been wasted on his father. Dorian gave a genuine laugh in response, deepening the effect.

The energy of the room shifted at that. The smirks on the Chargers’ faces fell, and Dorian could feel the invisible mantle of power snug on his shoulders again.

But the Bull alone seemed unaffected by the breach of social hierarchy. His amusement left him, but something settled on his features that spoke of satisfaction, as if something very critical had been confirmed. He shifted his weight back on one leg, and inclined his head in the tiniest of bows.

 _“Interesting.”_  Dorian thought genuinely. He bit his lower lip as the Bull’s eye met his, thick lashes veiling an interest that was, absurdly, entirely unrelated to business.

Bull broke away, turning back to the Skyjacker. Something passed between them, unspoken, and the man nodded. The Bull turned his gaze back to Dorian, stepping several feet towards him now, only two arm lengths away.

“How about you and I discuss new terms - privately.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed at that, a smile that did not show on his face. Instead he crossed his legs and ran a finger across his bottom lip, parting them just so.

“And would this new discussion be for business or pleasure?” Dorian said in a velvet voice, waiting for disgust to overtake the Bull’s features. But the Bull only laughed, a deep, knowing laugh that caught Dorian off guard. A smile crept onto Dorian’s face, which he tried to hide. The effect was awkward and damning. He’d been out played.

“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” Bull finally replied, triumphantly.

Dorian rolled his eyes and made a retching noise as he turned away. He knew the Bull’s eye was still on him, and that the man was smiling. Somehow that did not bother him.

He stood then, all elegance and motion. His silken sleeves dancing elliptically as he turned away. He walked the step and a half towards Julia, fear only flashing in her eyes for a moment. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his back to the others.

“Julia, see to it that all of our guests are comfortable and under surveillance while I see to this matter privately.”

Dorian spoke the words calmly, but at the word ‘all’ gently squeezed her shoulder. Her long ears twitched at the signal. She understood.

“Of course, Lord Dorian.”

“Very good.”

And without further fanfare, Dorian walked away, to withdraw to his dressing chamber once more. When he turned the corner he risked a last sideways glance back, and relished the look on The Iron Bull’s face as he watched him disappear.

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how fun it is to write Dorian in these outfits. 
> 
> But up next: Bull reveals some of his intel contacts to Dorian as a show of good faith. Dorian is surprised at his openness, and a tentative accord is struck between the two.


End file.
